Light to Valhalla (17 page)

Recognition lit the magistrate’s eyes
.
“
Rawlings you say?
”
He rubbed the wiry beard jutting from his chin
.
“Lord
Coverstone
if I’m not mistaken.”

Alex nodded in ascent.

“
And how can I be of assistance, milord?”

Alex followed
Mr. Reilly
into the modest house
.
Cheery warmth dismissed the chill air
creeping along the
golden
floorboards
.
A homier place Alex had likely never seen and an ache settled deep within him
.
Despite his eye-opening brush with death and new found desire to live a life of love and generosity, wa
s he doomed to live out an existence as cold and lonely as this November morning?
With effort he shook off the depressing thought and turned his attention to the pressing situation at hand
.

“Last ni
ght my wife was attacked,
abducted
and held for ransom
while on her way to a dinner party in London
.
I was able to get her back without paying ransom and before any harm came to her, but
the criminals e
luded my friend and me.
”

The magistrate’s eyes widened behind
the thick spectacles
.
“Quite a ways from London aren’t you?”

“My wife is the daughter of Lord Grayson
.
She preferred coming here as opposed to returning to London.”

“I see.
”
Mr. Reilly
pull
ed off his spectacles and swiped
a hand over his face
.
“What can you tell me about these men?”

“One man, Steven
Johnston
, I know personally, h
e actually served under me a few years back
.
The other man my wife named as John Halverson
.
Halverson was shot though I have no idea how severely.”

The magistrate
took detailed descriptions of the men and events
.
“I’ll send out word of these men, but I can’t make any promises, my lord.”

“U
nderstand
able
, sir, any help you can provide is much appreciated
.
If you’d be so kind as to keep this quiet
.
I’d hate to see Lady
Coverstone’s
name muddied in any way.”

“Of course, milord.
”
The older man smiled with assurance
.
“As soon as I hear anything you’ll be the first to know
.
Take care of your wife
, and do send Lord and Lady Grayson my best.”

“I will.
”
Alex nodded, replacing his hat, and stepping through the door
.
For a moment he
hesitated, warring
with the knowledge he’d omitted so many
key
details from his report
.
He straightened his shoulders
and strode down the creaky wooden stairs
.
No matter
.
The less said about Witherspoon the better
.
Alex could deal with the general
.
If the magistrate happened to deliver
Johnston
and Halverson
it would be an added boon
.
Not to mention the means of
confirming Alex’s suspicions that Witherspoon was in fact the mastermind behind Charlotte’s abduction
.

He unhitched hi
s horse
, gathered the reins in his hand and prepared to mount
.
Alex paused,
a trickle of unease
slithering across the base of his neck
, and glanced
shrewdly over his shoulder
.

Nothing
.

He shook his head
.
Too much time at war made a man paranoid
.
Hell he served with men who slept with a cap and ball beneath their pillows
.
Perhaps this furlough wo
uld be good for him after all.

He mounted and steered the animal back down the deserted street
.
Uncomfortably Alex shifted, unable to shed the
uncanny sense of be
ing watched.

Impossible
, he assured himself
.
No one knows you’re in England
.
A chill having nothing to do with the cold settled over him
.
Except, of course,
General Witherspoon.

*
             
*
             
*

“
A
re you absolutely certain this water isn’t too hot, milady?”

Clouds of steam rolled from the oversize bronze tub
in
the
bathing chamber
adjacent to
Charley
’s bedroom
.
She
raked a skeptical gaze
from
the
tub to the
bucket of cold water clutched ominously in the portly housekeeper’s hands
.
Even
b
oiling water would not
be
enough to scourge the filth of the attack from
her
crawlin
g
skin
.
“
T
he water is perfect
, Mrs. Kent
.
Thank you.
”
The hotter the better
.

“I don’t know.
”
The housekeeper raised a dubious brow, itchy fingers tw
itching along the bucket handle
, obviously ready to dump the chilly contents into the tub
.
“
You’re liable to scald yourself.”

Precisely the point
.
“Why don’t you leave the cold water on the floor by the bath and I can pour a little in myself if need be?
”
Charley
strove
for patience
.
She wanted nothing mor
e than to be left alone with a
blistering
bath
,
the
dour
contemplation of her marriage
,
and the fact she had an enemy intent upon her demise
.

Ever a worried mother hen, Mrs. Kent
showed every sign of
ignoring
Charley
’s wishes and
cooling the bathwater anyway
.
Formality amongst the servants in the Grayson hou
sehold was very relaxed, which wa
s the way
Charley
liked it, but at times
—such as this precise moment—the lack of
servantly
obedience grew wearisome.

Charley
reached for the bucket, curling her fingers around the handle and giving a
less than
gentle tug
.
Water sloshed
over the side of the bucket
onto
the floor, narrowly missing
Mrs. Kent’
s hem
.
Startled the older woman released the bucket and
Charley
swiftly
carried it to the opposite side of the
tub
.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kent.
”
Charley
smiled sweetly
.
“
That will be all.
”
It took every ounce of willpower not to glance impatiently toward the door
.
If patience was a virtue then
Charley
was an entirely
un
virtuous
young woman.

“Very well, milady.
”
Mrs. Kent released a beleaguered sigh, and turned to exit the room
.
“
Oh, and one more thing
.
What shall I do
with
your gown from last night?
”

Charley
spun,
eyes falling to the tattered blue garment
heaped on the floor where she’d eagerly discarded it just minutes before
.
She shuddered
.
Johnston
’s dark, evil eyes flashed through her mind
.
She pulled the silken
wrapper more tightly around her
.
“I say we burn it.”

Mrs. Kent’s gray eyes twinkled
.
“
An e
xcellent idea
, my lady
.
Shall I prepare tea and scones as well?
”

“Th
e lemon butter scones?”

“But of course!
”

“That sounds heavenly
.
”
Charley
’s stomach grumbled with the promise of the divine pastries
.
“
We’ll make a regular party of it.
”

“
Good
.
That’ll
cheer you up, milady
.
You’re far too melancholy for my liking
.
Why you used to turn this house upside down with trouble
and always with a smile on your rosy face
.
”
The older woman shook her h
ead, a
touch
of wistfulness
flitting across her face
.
“I miss those days.
”

Charley
’s impatience softened
.
As do I…

“What with you and Master Thomas grown up this place is far too quiet,” the housekeeper
continued,
prattling on in the
singular
way that
was all her own
.

Nostalgia assailed
Charley
so swiftly she swayed on her feet
.
Standing here in her bedchamber, amusedly impatient with the kindly Mrs. Kent, brought forth a multitude of memories—some pleasant… some miserable…
all
preferable
to the
current trend of her l
ife
.
Charley
could not
quench a betraying
, affection
ate
smile
as
Mrs. Kent
rambled on and on about ol
d times and childhood memories
.

“What with Lord
Coverstone
back in the country I d
aresay there will be the pitter-
patter of children’s feet
on the
floor’s
of Grayson Hall
err
long.”

Reality crashed back around
Charley
with resounding finality
.
She was no longer
Lady Charlotte, hellion
daughter of the eccentric Earl
.
Instead she was Lady
Coverstone
, the
epitome of the British aristocracy
, and the envy
of near every woman therein
.
Her stomach rolled
.
None of it was her
.
She wasn’t beautiful or demure
or the picture of elegance and grace
.
She was
Charley
…
the
not
orious hoyden
, and her so
l
e
purpose in life was to provide children to a man who did not love her
and planned to leave the moment she bore a son
.

“La, listen to
m
e blathering on
like an old fool
,” Mrs. Kent
’s ever-
cheery voice
interrupted the dour train of her thoughts
.
“
En
joy your bath, take a nice nap,
and
we’ll have a bit of fun burning this dress when you’re through.
”
The housekeeper bustled toward the door,
humming a
ditty
, the
ruined blue gown bundled in her arms
.
“Call if you need anything else.”